


Frozen Digits

by elflordsmistress



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Married Couple, Post Bartlett Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elflordsmistress/pseuds/elflordsmistress
Summary: The hottest day on record since 1877 ..
Relationships: Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg
Kudos: 5





	Frozen Digits

**Author's Note:**

> On September 27th, 2010, the National Weather Service’s thermometer hit 113 degrees in LA and 103 in Santa Monica - the highest recorded temperature since 1877.

_**Hollis Foundation** _

_**Santa Monica, California** _

_**September 27th, 2010** _

When the California weather becomes unbearable, she waits impatiently for him to pounce.

She never knows _when_ it will happen.

Or _where_.

She only knows that it _will_.

Her cell phone beeps on her desk, and the incoming text message is a welcome distraction.

Until she reads it.

**_It’s 113 degrees in L.A._ **

Game on.

Her nipples gather and peak at the mere thought of the havoc he will wreak on her system; and she smiles at the visual of his smug face as he makes her pulse against the frozen fingertips of a hand he’s dipped into a cup of ice.

Right on cue, the phone rings.

" _103 where you are_ ," he clarifies gleefully.

“God, Danny ..”

The silence stretches and stretches, and it's ridiculous that she can feel pressure building and he isn’t even there.

“You're squirming in your chair, aren't you?"

The little focus she had left flies out the window.

“ _Stop._ I have work to do!”

The sound of ice rattling in a cup comes down the line at her, and she thinks she may lose her mind.

“Are you coming by?”

“Hard to say.”

"Where are you now?"

"Parking lot outside your office."

She has to cover up her mouth to keep the next intake of breath from sounding like a moan, because she’s back to imagining his frozen digits at her core.

"CJ?"

"Mmm?"

He teases her with another rattle of ice, and if she could get away with touching herself she would.

"How hard are you throbbing?"

She is about to answer when she hears the hitch in his breath - and the game takes on a whole new layer.

"How hard are _you_ throbbing?"

She grips the side of the desk with her free hand when he tells her.

'Is this some kind of Pavlovian experiment?"

"Maybe."

“This is torture.”

“I know.”

" _Danny_ .."

"See ya!"

The line goes dead just as her office door opens, and she doesn't need to wonder whether Margaret can tell because the door closes shut immediately.

"She just needs a minute," she hears her say to someone in the outer office.

She can only hope it's not Franklin Hollis.

**Author's Note:**

> In my worldview of the post-Bartlet administration, Margaret went to work for CJ at the Hollis Foundation.


End file.
